


Don't Stir until Daybreak

by AlexStone



Series: Tolkientober [20]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Ghàidhlig, M/M, Tolkientober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:55:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27266056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexStone/pseuds/AlexStone
Summary: Frodo and Sam have a good day in Ithilien.
Relationships: Frodo Baggins/Sam Gamgee
Series: Tolkientober [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948141
Kudos: 16





	Don't Stir until Daybreak

**Author's Note:**

> Tolkientober Day 29 - 'Ringbearer'
> 
> Almost at the end of Tolkientober! In this piece I wanted to capture a snapshot of what the journey was like for Sam, and how bearing the ring wasn't Frodo's burden alone. 
> 
> I've used Ghàidhlig (Scots Gaelic) for the songs. Tolkien had a difficult relationship with Celtic cultures and languages. In this, my goal is to centre a language that the author marginalised. However, as someone with English heritage, I am more than willing to receive constructive feedback from Ghàidhlig speakers. 
> 
> I have linked videos to the songs below.

With the smell of frying bacon, Sam believed he was back in the Shire. It was the weekend, and Bagshot Row would be alive with sound. Daisy would knock on his door and explain that Marigold was threatening to eat his breakfast. Light would crawl through open windows, and Sam would turn in bed, trying to catch the last threads of a good dream.

Or perhaps Sam would turn over in Bag End. Frodo would have slipped out early to make him breakfast, and muffled curses would echo down the corridors followed by the smell of burnt toast. Sam would reach his fingers across the indentation left in Frodo’s pillow, and breathe in the musky scent of morning. Sam would close his eyes, and know he could spend all day like this, and every day forevermore.

Sam opened his eyes. He was not in Bagshot Row, nor was he in Bag End. The was no ceiling above him, no pillow under his head, just the forests of Ithilien and tough soil. Sam sat up and felt his spine crunch unpleasantly. The smell of bacon lingered from his dreams, until Sam realised it was no dream. Frodo was sat in the clearing, cursing over a frying pan. Frodo turned to see Sam awake, and gave an embarrassed shrug.

“I’m sorry Sam. I wanted to surprise you,” Frodo grimaced, demonstrating the blackened remains of some slices of rabbit, “I might have lost the knack for our breakfasts.”

“If I remember correct, this was the reason I cooked breakfasts for us,” Sam wandered to Frodo and kissed his head, before inspecting the damage, “oh, Mister Frodo! Don’t you think that rabbit has suffered enough?”

“It was a bad rabbit,” Frodo tutted, “it deserved everything it got.”

The meat wasn’t entirely inedible, and Frodo served it alongside some mushrooms and a peculiar green-leafed plant Sam had found earlier on a previous day. They sat and chewed their breakfast, looking out over the forest. Sam noticed that Gollum was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he was off torturing some fish, he thought bitterly, taking a swig of water.

“I’m feeling good about today,” Frodo said, almost as much to himself as to Sam, “today is going to be a good day.”

Sam squeezed Frodo’s hand. He was glad to see Frodo active again, and he couldn’t deny the past few days had been difficult. The restless fidgeting, the night terrors, the sullen moods, through all these difficulties Sam hoped for one easy day, just the two of them together. He knew it wasn’t Frodo’s fault. Yet there had been days when Sam felt as if he had been carrying both of their worlds, full to bursting.

The forests of Ithilien were different to Lothlorien, and even the Shire. The ground was drier, more sand than soil, and trees stretched long, thin branches upwards into a high canopy. Thick gorse rolled across dunes, and as a warm southerly wind blew the heather seemed to hush the world into quiet. Frodo and Sam packed their bags and continued south, never losing sight of the heavy mountains on their left.

“Here, Mister Frodo, how about we play the rainbow game?” Sam suggested.

“The rainbow game?” Frodo blinked, a memory passing across his face, “why, I don’t think I’ve played that since Brandy Hall! Okay. I spot… red, on those berries just under the gorse over there.”

“I don’t know how they played it in Brandy Hall, but you don’t start at red,” Sam looked around, tapping his finger on his lips, “here, this stone has some indigo on it.”

“Sam, you can’t pick something that has a bit of the colour on it. It has to be the whole colour,” Frodo hurried past Sam and grabbed something from the ground, “see! This pottery is indigo. So I get the first point.”

Sam rolled his eyes, and they continued to walk into the forest. Each would stop every few minutes to point and collect an object. Frodo tried to argue that the ring would count as his yellow object, to which Sam strongly objected. After a short lunch they continued walking, and Frodo sung a tune under his breath:

_“Beanntaichean àrda is àillidh leacainnean,  
_ _Sluagh ann an còmhnuidh is còire cleachdainnean,  
_ _'S aotrom mo cheum a' leum g'am faicinn,  
_ _Is fanaidh mi tacan le deòin._

_O chì, chì mi na mòr-bheanna,  
_ _O chì, chì mi na còrr-bheanna,  
_ _O chì, chì mi na coireachan,  
_ _Chì mi na sgoran fo cheò.”_

For a moment, in those forests, Sam imagined that they were wandering the long road of from the Brandywine to Hobbiton. The trees were the trees of his home, and the ground was the ground he knew. Frodo’s voice would drift in the soft Shire breeze, as beautiful and varied as all the stained glass of the Shire. They would watch the west Farthing open before them like a blossoming flower. Sam looked to Frodo, who had stopped singing.

Frodo stood stock still, rocking backwards and forwards on his feet. His eyes were far away, and he was muttering something under his breath. Sam felt a pit open in his heart as he hurried to Frodo, taking Frodo’s hands in his own.

“I can’t do it,” Frodo whispered, his palms cold with sweat, “I can’t do it, Sam. I can’t, I just…”

“Oh Frodo, you don’t need to do any more today,” Sam comforted, gently massaging Frodo’s tensed hands, “you’ve already done so much. We must have made ten miles already, which is more than my Gaffer can do after his hip gave out last year. Why don’t we go down to that clearing and make camp for the day?”

“I don’t think I can take another step,” Frodo looked to Sam, tears brimming in his eyes, “I feel so cold, and so hot, all at the same time. It’s like I’m falling apart.”

“We can’t have that now, can we?” Sam took a deep breath and wiped a tear from Frodo’s cheeks. He held Frodo close to his chest, and kissed him. He felt a cold flash in his chest as he looked behind Frodo and saw Gollum’s milky eyes staring at them from across the path.

“Do you remember the Hobbiton Fête, when I asked you to dance?” Sam whispered, guiding Frodo’s hand into his own, “I was so scared. I couldn’t remember my left foot from my right, and I thought you were having the most awful time.”

“I wasn’t having an awful time,” Frodo murmured, “I had been waiting all summer for you to ask me to dance.”

“Well, if you can’t walk anymore, maybe you can dance?” Sam smiled at Frodo, before gently counting a slow two-step beat.

Frodo breathed in time with Sam’s counting, and they took one step after the other. Sam, leading backwards, never lost sight of Gollum, who crawled after them in a wet, spider-like fashion. Sam felt Frodo looking over his shoulder too, as if he was seeing a thing as terrible and foreboding as the creature that shadowed their every step. The two hobbits held each other and danced, clumsy at first, careful always, illuminated by the terrors of their minds.

“I’m sorry, Sam,” Frodo rested his head on Sam’s shoulder as they reached the clearing, “I wanted this to be a good day.”

“It was a good day,” Sam stroked Frodo’s hair and held him tight, “it is always a good day.”

Frodo wrapped himself in a blanket as Sam set up the camp. They had found their way to the edge of the forest, and the ground seemed warm at their feet. In the distance a series of white spires crouched above the tree-line. Sam felt a weight in his chest, the same weight that had been with him since the Black Gate, the knowledge that they were so awfully close to the end.

Dinner was a quiet affair, as Sam tried to make use of the last of salted rabbit haunches. The night slowly crept upon them, and all the warmth of the day turned cold as lonely stars emerged from the darkness. Sam stoked the fire into embers and reclined against a thick tree, gathering Frodo to him. Sam watched huge pale eyes watch them from the darkness, illuminated by the dying light.

“Can you sing to me, Sam?” Frodo murmured, his head tucked against Sam’s chest, “have I told you that you have a beautiful voice?”

“You haven’t,” Sam lied. Frodo had told him the same thing each night for the past week. In silence, holding Frodo, Sam remembered being held by his mother. He remembered how she smelt of lavender and thyme, and how soft her hands were. He remembered warmth, and love, and kindness, and all the goodness of all the world, and a simple melody that used to sing him to sleep. He sang to Frodo a slow tune, low and quiet, wishing with all his strength that his words could smash the ring into a thousand pieces.

_“Caidil thusa luaidh,  
_ _Caidil thusa luaidh,_  
_Caidil thusa luaidh,  
_ _Is na gluais gu là.”_

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on twitter at @AlexStoneWriter! Comments are greatly appreciated.
> 
> You can find the full list of Tolkientober prompts here: https://twitter.com/hobbitgay/status/1311350783238045696
> 
> More information about Tolkien's relationship to Celtic languages and cultures can be found here: https://ansionnachfionn.com/leabhair-books/j-r-r-tolkien-and-ireland/
> 
> Frodo's song is 'Chì mi na mórbheanna': https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WFPetiv-3oM
> 
> Sam's song is 'Bà i ù o hò': https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0mgxPaNJD7c


End file.
